


Hilltop

by claudia603



Category: Lord of the Rings - Tolkien
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-13
Updated: 2010-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-07 23:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudia603/pseuds/claudia603
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The enemy had not the only form of ensnarement...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hilltop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [baranduin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baranduin/gifts).



Beren recalls treading upon a dark road on the edge of jagged cliffs, unforgiving, whereupon one slip of the foot could send him hurtling into a horror, the memories of which still wake him in the night in a chilly sweat. At the bottom of those cliffs lie shadowy terrors that never sleep and hundreds of cold eyes that watch and wait, hungry for living flesh. In the depths of those shadows even a moonless night seems luminous.

In Doriath Beren can breathe again, and the air no longer reeks of death and decay. Instead it is sweet and fresh, like overturned soil in early spring, never mind that silvery ice still clings to barren branches. He crunches over frost-laden grass, neither awake nor asleep. Time no longer holds meaning, and he ceases to keep track of the days or weeks or months. The sun fills the sky with golden brilliance and then turns to silver gems illuminate the black sky with pale light.

One morning, amidst the bird chatter and the joyful gurgle of brooks, Beren catches a faint voice lifted in song. He stands still, utterly enchanted, frozen in place. The voice rises with the golden sun, melts ice into silver rivulets, clears the sky of gray clouds, and it fills his heart with hope and beauty.

His legs find their strength again, and he stumbles forth, his heart filled with ethereal melody and a yearning, no a need to find that voice. His steps have purpose once again.

He walks into a clearing and knows that he has just stepped into a dream.

Surely no maiden can truly exist who is so lovely. All he can do is stare, spellbound.

Reluctant caution stirs in his heart, that perhaps this maiden is a siren, a trap set out by the Enemy to ensnare him. But light fills Beren's heart and he knows otherwise. He has seen much evil and recognizes it in its many guises.

He watches the maiden dance with breath-taking grace, and flowers bloom wherever her feet fall. He laughs, and the shadows in his heart clear. He plucks a bloom, clasping it close to his heart.

The Enemy is not the only form of ensnarement.


End file.
